


Engraved in the wind

by Metuka



Series: God's daughter [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 15:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metuka/pseuds/Metuka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back in Israel after what happened in DC, a visit to Malachi is required to decide what to do</p>
            </blockquote>





	Engraved in the wind

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Grabado en el viento](https://archiveofourown.org/works/424582) by [Metuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metuka/pseuds/Metuka). 



He will be waiting for you, you are sure. He can't have left his house unprotected, not him. He is almost like you two, only he is nobody's god. Malachi travels solo, without a baggage. “Without dead weight,” as he put it one of the few times you've made a mistake. You got so angry you wanted to hit him, but even God's daughter has her limitations. Your lips were still split and bloody when you kissed him.

You find him in the backyard, dressed with just a pair of jeans cut above his knees, watering a flowerbed with absent demeanor. Anybody else would think that he is distracted, that he hasn't noticed your presence yet. You know him well enough to see beyond. The tension in his shoulders proves it, that is why you're not surprised when he softly turns his head and looks into your eyes calmly.

“Ziva?,” he asks, frowning slightly. Suddenly, something in his expression changes, you feel recognition, “Batya.”

Malachi is the only one who knows what Eitan and you are. Were. You weren't sure when he found out, but one day he entered Eitan's office and greeted him using that name. You considered ridding of him, he might cause you trouble, tell somebody. Eitan made you drop it when you had already planned his death. Malachi is very smart, he dances to his own music and doesn't care about the others' although he likes to know their tune. He wouldn't mean any threat to you unless he thought you were one to him.

He's still watching you. Without losing sight of you, he approaches the faucet and rolls the hose slowly and thoroughly. He likes to do things well, that is his virtue and his downfall. He gets high with perfection. Somalia wounded his ego more than his shoulder even though things worked out and he was able to come back home without anyone making him go back in time, without being stripped of his identity and forced to become just a carcass full of nothing.

“Eitan is dead,” you suddenly hear yourself saying. Malachi glances at you and nods.

“Bashan called, he couldn't find you.”

“I don't want his body. I don't.”

Because that isn't Eitan anymore, it's just sad bones, disgraced skin, decay. He had to do it, he had to leave. He should have taken you with him. He called you his kitten sometimes, but you're not a cat. You can't roam without an owner. You can't fly solo, you're an arrow without its bow. You don't want Eitan's body to remind you, you can't think about your last meeting, about his never calling you anymore, about not seeing him again. You don't want to bury him, you don't want a grave to visit and get your wounds reopened time and again.

“I'll take care of it.”

“Cremate him,” you snap at him so quickly his last word and your first overlap, “and get rid of the ashes.”

Malachi doesn't answer. You prefer it that way. You don't want his comfort or his trying to persuade you to change your mind. Whether he understands or not, he at least respects you. That's what makes him different from the rest. He's never wanted to shape you against Eitan, he's never intended to cure your wounds against your will, he's never tried to see others in you.

He walks towards the door of the house, opens it and gazes at you from the threshold. You think you hear his whisper “come” and even if you're unsure, that lonely syllable is enough for you to follow him. You go with him to the kitchen, the neon light is reflected off the sweat drops running down his chest. It looks like glazed ceramic, like the one on the tiles covering the walls with their falsely welcoming drawings of fruits and kitchen utensils. Only in this room there are over a million ways to kill and die. You know them all, Malachi surely will, too.

You wonder what he'll do, if he'll decide to save you. He may dart a knife at you, he's got good aim. He may want you to discover if there is something afterwards, if you will meet Eitan. Even if you saw it coming, you wouldn't dodge. You would let it hurt you, deliciously piercing your skin and making this life of yours gush out. This way your body would be empty as well.

But Malachi doesn't want to hurt you, he's just thirsty. You accept his glass of water and sit beside him. When you do, you get so close you two are almost touching. Feeling you nearly brush him finally makes you feel a bit warm in all this cold. Ever since you heard the shot, you haven't been able to warm up or find your way. Perhaps that's why you've come.

It's not something you've thought about yet, but something that has come up. While leaving the hotel it seemed your only option, you've seen it so clearly you haven't even dared second-guess yourself. Malachi would know what to do, Malachi would have a plan, he always does. That's why Eitan valued him so much, that's why he asked you to keep an eye on him on the Damocles. He's alive because Eitan wanted it that way. And now Eitan is dead.

“I've quit, Batya,” he whispers after he wipes his lips.

Outraged, you stare at him with your eyes wide open. He can't be serious. He can't have betrayed you two like this. You must have misheard him, that's the only explanation. Only it isn't. Your shock doesn't impress him, but only makes him repeat the same more firmly this time.

“How dare you?! After all that Eitan has done for you--”

“I don't owe him anything and neither do you. Look at you, what's the point? Why do you want to die for him? He's dead, Batya. He won't come to pick you up, he's taken off. He won't--”

A slap suffices to silence him. When you see his blood flow, you stand up and get the kitchen towels. Eitan is dead, but he doesn't understand. He doesn't know what it’s like, Malachi knows nothing. Neither do you, perhaps. As you wipe him, his words soak through you like the blood through the cellulose. Eitan is no longer here. Your reasons to exist are gone.

You don't know when you crack, but you suddenly find yourself leaning against him, sobbing and wailing just like so many years ago. Back then you weren't even Batya yet, but the nameless child. Eitan took you in, he gave you life, reasons, hope. Eitan has taken everything from you, he has taken Batya away. Now there's only you.

“Help me. Don't leave me alone,” you beg amidst broken-voiced tears.

When you open your eyes, you've got a headache. You're lying on a dim lit bed, your arm resting on smooth, firm skin. You absent-mindedly run your fingers on it and jog your memory. Malachi has held you in his arms, brought you to his bedroom and comforted you silently. You're not sure when you've fallen asleep or fainted.

“I'm sorry,” you mutter with a hoarse voice. Forgiveness doesn’t equal weakness, Eitan taught you. Humility takes much more fortitude than blind pride.

“There's nothing to be sorry about.”

“Why?”

You lift your head from the pillow and look into his eyes. You're not interested in any explanation he may give you about why your tears need no apology, but in learning how come he betrayed you, why he decided to quit. Like Eitan used to do, Malachi runs his tan fingers through your dark curls. You think he understands what you mean. Malachi is smart. Malachi always knows what's going on.

“I don't want to become him. There mustn't be more like you.”

“And now what?”

You don't know Malachi's plans, but you know he's got them. Malachi doesn't leap without a net, he doesn't let go of a branch until he's firmly clasping another one. If only he might need you, if only you might come in handy. He's not Eitan and you may not be Batya if that's what he wants. He only needs to show you the way and you will walk it without hesitation, you will clear and pave it for him if Malachi asks you.

“That's over, Ziva,” he replies as if he had read your mind.

You frown. He can't say that name before you. It was good while it lasted, but wandering after Eitan left you've realized you couldn't be her. You would play in her shoes again if you had to, but not at your own request. You're not Ziva, you can't be Batya anymore, either. There's only you.

“I always liked Sarah,” he states, although you don't know if to you or to himself, “Sovereign, lady and mistress. Sarah Ben-Gidon.”

You gasp and clutch his hand. He's asking you to stay. You clench your jaw in an effort not to burst into tears again. You must be strong for him, you can't break down. It doesn't matter that he knows what you're capable of, you must prove it so that he never forgets.

“I don't need you,” he explains matter-of-factly, as if he was mentioning it's sunny outside. Inside you it is too. He wants you to stay.

“So?”

“Time ago I met someone from Likud. His job offer has been on from then. I've taken it, I'm their new security manager.”

“And you don't need me? But I could--”

Malachi shakes his head before allowing you to explain. You don't understand. He wants you by his side, you don't know why he rejects your help.

“I can hire whoever I want, but not under these circumstances.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I've never had a dog and I don't want one now. I want you, Ziva, Sarah, or whoever you are, but not Batya.”

You close your eyes and sigh. You're finally starting to get it. Malachi expects you to be yourself. He'll have to teach you how, it's not something easy to learn. You need a nest to go back to, a place to call home. But Eitan is no longer here. Now you have Malachi and Malachi doesn't want Batya.

“Sarah,” you reply, gazing at him again, “I will be your Sarah, but let me work with you or I'll go crazy.”

Malachi scrutinizes your face and nods in the end. You kiss him like you did that time, only without blood in between. You merge with him, he reciprocates, you scream his name when the world melts under your body and, still panting, you stare at him. He smiles at you. You smile at him. You'll learn. You have to. You'll be yourself, you won't need him, he won't need you either. That's why you'll be together.

And because Eitan is gone. Now there's only Malachi. And you, Sarah.


End file.
